


Loneliness

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Drama, M/M, Series: Eternal Partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	Loneliness

## Loneliness

by Valencia

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Station/7044/Sentinel.html>

Author's disclaimer: Once more I say that James Ellison and Blair Sandburg belongs to Pet Fly Productions. I am so not making money out of these stories!

* * *

Blair Sandburg was afraid. And it was the kind of fear kids would know very well. The instinctive, intuitive horror of dark closets, small spaces under the bed and the boogieman that sprung out at you from behind the door when you least expected it. It was the kind of fear that would engulf entirely, leaving nothing behind. Not even a lock of hair or a toenail left to prove you ever existed. 

He told himself that he wouldn't do it, he can't do it. It was too much to ask. But once night descended, as the world plunged into deceptively serene darkness for a few hours, his feet seemed to have taken a life of their own and before he knew it, he was walking towards the direction of the old church. 

It was very late and very quiet, except for the occasional wail of sirens in the distance, sounding weirdly distorted when it broke the muffled silence. To Blair's ears, it sounded like a man squealing in unholy pain. 

His thoughts churned chaotically as his destination approached nearer and his stomach twisted when he thought of what had been asked of him. But running alongside with the dread was also a powerful need. A undeniable compulsion to see him. He was drawn and it was as if he was a puppet and invisible strings were pulling him closer, closer to damnation. 

Blair shivered slightly as the night air swirled round and tried to sink icy tentacles into his already chilled body. He hunched deep into his coat and ran distracted fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down. 

Oh shit, I can't. It's too much to ask, Blair thought in despair. 

Before he knew it, he was standing before the majestic doors that led into the church. Made of oak and pitted with the scars of time, the elements and human graffiti. He stood before them and swallowed convulsively. 

I can't... 

But like his feet, his hands lifted of their own volition while Blair watched with half-horrified and fascinated eyes, to place palms against the hard surface of the church doors. And he wondered a little hysterically about demonic possessions. 

The hands gave an experimental push and surprisingly, the heavy wooden doors parted easily with a whispery sigh, the way a woman's skirt would rustle over the floor. 

It was dark inside, it smelt of musk, rot and other less pleasant things. The pews were dusty, cobwebs nestling lovingly where they could find purchase. Over the damaged altar, a plain wooden cross still hung and someone had scrawled 'Suck me' in brilliant red paint on the wall behind. Not very imaginative but then graffiti usually wasn't. 

Blair made his way carefully among the debris on the floor, his heart thudding so deafeningly until all he could hear was the rhythmic pounding of his blood in his ears. 

The abandoned church was totally empty but there was a small door at the side of the nave leading out to a tiny garden and instinctively Blair knew that the person he sought was there. 

Damnation...or salvation. 

Blair tried to still his heart that was beating so hard until he thought he was going to scream. He had to bite his lip until his teeth broke the fragile skin to stop himself from doing just that. The garden was lighted only by the moon that shone overhead. But it was enough for Blair to see the weeds that infested the place, the gnarled leafless tree that stood at one corner, and the broken stone seat that was flanked by two stone angels. One of the angels had no head, just two flaring marble wings and imploring outstretched hands. The second angel was still relatively intact but someone had gouged deep holes in the sockets of her eyes and stuck two red marbles in each one. On one granite cheek, a single crimson red tear had been painstakingly drawn by an unknown hand, making the angel looked as though she was weeping blood. The scarlet teardrop contrasted weirdly with the grey stone surface of the angel's face. The small garden looked like an image from a madman's drawing or a child's nightmare. 

The moonlight was enough for Blair to see all this and it was enough for him to see the form that sat so still on the stone seat that it might have been another statue itself. 

His heart did stop beating so erratically then but he stopped breathing too. 

Oh God, I can't... 

"You came." The familiar voice said and Blair could have wept at the affection, the gladness that underlined every word. "I knew you would, Chief." 

"Jim..." Blair exhaled at last. "Oh man..." 

"You're scared. I could hear your heart racing like a train that's run off the tracks the minute you walked in." Jim said with quiet amusement. "It's not because of me, is it?" He looked the same, sounded the same but something had changed. He was dressed in a plain white T-shirt, jeans and a battered bombardier jacket. He looked like the Jim Ellison that Blair knew and wanted back so desperately but he also looked...different...somehow. A panther in repose. Claws sheathed but by no means removed. 

"Why here? I mean..." Blair's words stuck in his throat as he gesticulated with his hands their surroundings. "You're..." 

Jim's hands rested easily on his knees and he smiled. And somehow, that smile made Blair shivered a little once more but he wasn't cold any longer. 

"Just because I'm a vampire now doesn't mean I'm also an atheist." Jim quirked an eyebrow at him. 

At those unexpected words, Blair really did lose it then. He started to laugh, softly at first, the sound of his almost hysterical chortles swallowed by the shadows, then harder, louder, until he was literally howling at the moon. Blair laughed until his belly cramped with pain, sharp little shooting stabs of agony and when he finally stopped, his cheeks hurt and his face was wet with tears. And the salt in his tears stung the cut on his lip where he had bit it. 

Blair didn't know whether he was crying from genuine mirth or from the fact that Jim, the person who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, and who was waiting so patiently for him to say something, had changed into something so incomprehensible that it was almost horrible. 

He opened his mouth and tried to speak, to say something, but he couldn't. Nothing would come out. He was mute like the girl in the faery tale who was doomed never to speak until she saved her brothers from the curse. But as with all faery tales, happy endings were inevitable. The girl did speak at last and she did save her brothers. But Blair knew, with a heartbreaking misery, that there wouldn't be a happy ending in store for him. He could speak but he couldn't save Jim from the curse. 

"I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so sorry." he murmured at last, his eyes full of tormented regret. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Sandburg. For what? It's not your fault. I was careless. I didn't see...him--" Here, Jim's face closed as he remembered the person who had changed him. "And when I did, it was too late." He hadn't seen the vampire, couldn't hear it's heartbeat because there was no heart beating, couldn't smell it, couldn't sense it stalking him as a predator would hunt it's hapless prey, until impossibly strong hands grasped him into an unbreakable hold and spiked pain pierced his neck. And later, as furious fire scorched through his veins, seared his blood, he knew he was changing irrevocably into something else. 

He still retained his Sentinel abilities and, contrary to age-old myths and a man named Stoker, bear the sun's rays upon his skin but except, now, when darkness came...thirst came along with it. Thirst like he had never known. Thirst that ripped you apart from sheer craving. So far, he had only fed on those who deserved it and as long as he didn't take too much, they could survive and so could he. 

And he would survive for a very long time to come. 

"Have you decided?" Jim asked, his eyes never leaving Blair's face. 

Blair clenched his fists helplessly and dug fingernails deep into flesh so that perfect semi-circles were now carved like an archaic pattern onto his palms. 

Jim's nostrils flared a little as he caught the rich, salty aroma of blood. "You're bleeding." he told Blair, his face expressionless. He stood up with a limber grace and before Blair could blink, speak or just get the hell away, Jim was standing before the younger man. "I can smell it." he said calmly and Blair gulped, his fear rising like an ominous tide once more, threatening to drown him. 

This was Jim! He would never do anything to hurt you! His mind yelled at him and with that thought, Blair regained a measure of stability. Jim who would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. Jim who was the best friend he'll ever have. Jim who...loved him. 

"You can smell my blo...blood?" he stuttered slightly. "Um...so, what does it smell like?" Part of him was trying to distract, delay and part of him, the scholar, really wanted to know. 

Jim's face went distant and his eyes were abstracted as he tried to put into words. "Sweet. Seductive. Elusive." He gave a small shrug as if to indicate that was the best he could do. "I can't describe it." 

Blair hesitated and plunged on. "What does it taste like then?" Did he really wanted to know? 

"Do you really want to know, Sandburg? Do you?" Whispered words but Jim's eyes suddenly flared like twin stars, softly illuminating the moonlit garden with their own pale blue radiance. Blair could only stand, held by those eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Jim stepped closer until his body was mere millimetres away from Blair's and the younger man couldn't help but noticed with disturbing apprehension that Jim was not breathing at all. Involuntarily, he reached out a tentative arm and his hand found it's way to Jim's face, the pads of his fingers lightly caressing the cheek. The skin was icy to his touch. "You're so cold." he whispered back, his palm flat against Jim's cheek. Cold like the stone angels. 

"And you cut your lip." Jim tilted his head down slightly as if he was going to kiss him but instead when he parted his mouth, the tip of his tongue darted out to flick against the small bead of blood glistening blackly on Blair's lower lip. It tasted like velvet and wine. Heady and intoxicating. 

Blair squeezed his eyes tight as the feel of Jim's tongue slid, like silk over bare skin, across his lips. His entire body tensed and stretched as he unconsciously leaned in closer towards Jim. He was still afraid but mixed in with the fear was desire now. Pure and unadulterated desire singing in his bones, making his knees weak and his whole body shuddering in response to Jim's odd caress. 

He opened his eyes when Jim stopped and spoke. 

"It tastes like life." Jim said, his voice devoid of any nuances. Just stating the facts clearly and concisely, like a cop, and Blair abruptly knew why he came. Not because of the fear, not because he loved Jim and not because Jim loved him. But because of what he saw reflected in Jim's eyes. 

Loneliness. 

And when he saw, Blair knew his choice had been made. He couldn't let Jim suffer eternity alone. And he himself couldn't suffer a lifetime alone either. 

He shrugged off his jacket and undid the top button of his shirt to bare his throat. 

"I've decided." He couldn't quite keep the trembling from his voice but nevertheless, he had decided. 

The deep loneliness subsided to be replaced by love. "I know." And hunger. "I'm sorry." 

Jim leaned in closer and this time, he did kiss Blair. A bittersweet kiss of understanding, of knowing exactly what Blair was giving up, sacrificing for him. And though his body was cold, Jim's mouth was warm and sweetly tender. 

Blair tilted his head up, gazing up at the moon and all her secrets, as Jim's lips glided down to the side of his neck. He gave a muted, breathless cry of pain as sharp teeth pierced through thin, vulnerable skin to reach the precious liquid that flowed beneath. He was still afraid but the loneliness he saw in Jim's eyes overcame his fear. 

He wondered through a haze of pain whether his own blood, flowing down Jim's throat, would warm the other man for a brief time. He hoped so. Jim never really liked being cold. 

His limbs were becoming so heavy, his thoughts blurring, shifting, and he could feel his heart slowing down, dying as Jim fed...he was dying...loneliness...but he wouldn't be lonely anymore now and neither would Jim...they would be together...always... 

Love...you... was Blair's last thought before he sank into darkness. 

When Jim finally lifted his head, Blair crumbled bonelessly against his body and he wrapped strong arms around the smaller form. Blair wasn't breathing, his chest remained stationary and still. No breath passed his lips. And none would now. His face was chalk-white, eyes closed as if he was merely sleeping and inky lashes showed up clearly against ashen cheeks. 

Jim slowly lowered himself down, still clasping Blair tightly against his chest and he leaned back against the stone bench. He could feel Blair's blood coursing inside him. Burning him. Warming him. 

He settled as comfortably as he could, gently cradling Blair's unresponsive body and with infinite patience, waited for Blair to wake. 

End 


End file.
